


Don't be such a baby, bones grow back!

by Pinkato



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: M/M, yeah im pioneering this ship MYSELF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkato/pseuds/Pinkato
Summary: No, they don't, but Lyon begs to differ after Laslow miraculously injures himself
Relationships: Lyon/Laslow
Kudos: 12





	Don't be such a baby, bones grow back!

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK I paired them once for something and they grew on me okay. This takes place when they're sorta close but not dating yet.
> 
> Also Lyon is snarky because.....demon king probably messed his brain up and he's tired.

Laslow didn’t know how to respond to the fact that his leg bone was sticking out of his leg. But like clockwork his brain worked into giving him the full treatment of anguish. 

It hurt. The way his skin burned and the wound felt like it was too hot. The way his mouth trembled and teeth clicked together, an awkward noise bubbling from his throat as he tried so hard not to cry like a baby. 

It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt —

Laslow cried out again when he saw Lyon practically running towards him, his long robes nearly tripping him. There was blood all over him, perhaps from dispatching the last of the enemy, and his gaze was still dark from his black magic. But his eyes seemed emptier than before. “Laslow, Laslow stay calm—“

But he couldn’t. Of course Lyon had to see him like this, the person he wanted to impress had to see him like this. But he tried to listen to Lyon, pushing through his nerves that worked like a machine, turning his torso to look away from his partner and to clutch the grass beside him. There was blood everywhere and he could smell it. 

“I’m sorry,” Laslow managed to sputter out. “I’m so, sorry, I’m,”

“No,” Lyon hissed out, moving to get closer to Laslow. Lyon was so pretty, even when covered in dirt and blood and other such substances Laslow couldn’t even name oh god this pain hurts so badly please don’t look at him like that. 

“No I’m sorry, Laslow please calm down. I…I can try something but you have to trust me,” the way he spoke was calm and calculated. But there was fear. Fear of the solution that Laslow of course nodded to, anything and everything just please make it stop. Lyon looked at Laslow’s eyes one more time, and Laslow could see the sweat on his forehead and the quiver of his mouth. 

Lyon gripped his leg with such strength. Laslow instinctively curled towards the wound in pain. Lyon met him halfway with a kiss to his forehead, and promises of ‘It’ll be okay’. 

He could feel Lyon’s nimble fingers sort through the open wound on his leg, practically dipping into the sensitive nerves and clenching around all the areas he felt an excruciating warmth on. Laslow was crying now, whether it be from pain or sick embarrassment, but Lyon still told him to still himself. And he tried. He tried. 

Laslow then felt a feeling he couldn’t even begin to describe. His wound’s pain began to dissipate, each spot that burned and throbbed began to still. Laslow opened his eyes to meet Lyon’s dark ones, but they quickly moved to the wound on his leg. Lyon seemed displeased but his magic did not stop. 

Laslow watched in horror, and awe, as his wound began to heal itself. The bone that stuck itself out began snapping back in place, the tender flesh was reappearing and rearranging itself to fit the mold of his leg, the blood that dropped down his calf started sliding back into the wound. It was too much. This was too much. The way Lyon’s magic worked, to the shock of it all, to the string of thoughts clouding Laslow’s mind. 

He felt overwhelmed. And then the next thing he felt was disgustingly tired.

Laslow woke up to the gentle sound of cicadas just outside the tent he was in. But instead of the medic’s tent he found himself in his tent - or rather, his shared tent with Lyon. The same man who entered with a tight lipped smile and a tray of food. 

“You’ve been out all day. Sir Camus managed to save us a few bowls.”

“Oh thank god,” Laslow replied sarcastically, “I wake up and I actually get to eat real food, charming,” he extended his arm out to the bowl he was offered, “don’t tell Veronica that though.” 

Lyon’s smile was nothing but gentle as he let Laslow take his meal, his fingers lightly grazing Laslow’s in such a tender moment. 

Unlike the first few nights of sharing a tent, their meal time together was conducted in a stifling silence. Normally Laslow would be filling the pauses, but he found himself ever quiet. Laslow’s eyes trailed to his leg, noticing that there was no bandage.

Laslow took a strained gulp of the soup, “my leg it’s…Healed?”

Lyon gave a hum. He did not look up from his bowl. 

Laslow set his bowl next to him on the bed, moving both hands to cradle the muscle he was certain was completely ruined. But there was nothing. Like it didn’t happen at all. Like he didn’t bawl his eyes out in front of his crush like a baby. 

“I…I didn’t know you were versed in healing magic,” Laslow’s voice was soft with praise, “this is most remarkable! Lyon I—“ 

“You can call it healing if you’d like,” Lyon’s reply was clipped and bitter. 

“Y-Yes, because it is…Or, it wasn’t, because I’ve never seen a healer look so scared of healing somebody— Lyon what did you do?”

Lyon’s eyes were still downcast towards his bowl, towards the spoon that idly stirred what was left. Laslow pieced together what he was so nervous about, as in those few months of knowing each other, Laslow realized the look on his face only meant one thing:

Dark magic. Magic he has perfected but at a grave cost. A cost Lyon hasn’t told him about yet. 

“Necromancy…is a final stage,” Lyon explained it slowly as if he himself was pondering the next words. The delicate words. “It’s when you can bend the body and reverse it, reverse everything. The state, the rot, the soul…

“When healers heal they speed up the process. I merely reversed it.”

“It’s not that bad,” Laslow reasoned, “a healed leg is a healed leg! I mean, well, the methods used don’t matter in the end right?”

But the look on Lyon’s face did not move. Laslow understood the concept of dark magic. How wonderful it is, how double edged it could be. His leg was healed but…

“If you were to stand your leg would crumble and snap in two. I…changed the time you would receive the wound.”

Laslow laid his head back down in thought. Lyon took it as disgust, his teeth clenching and he turned away from Laslow in shame. 

“Wow.” Was all Laslow could say. 

“So my leg would break again, just like it did earlier?”

“Yes,” was Lyon’s muffled reply, “I’m sorry—“

“Then I’ll wait until morning to move. I’m comfy and besides, Veronica is surely asleep now, right?”

Lyon jerked his head back so fast, his hair whipping around in purple strands. His eyes were wide. Laslow wanted to tease him for such a face. “Why are you being so nonchalant about this? I…I practically desecrated your body…!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done that,” Laslow replied with a snort. “And well, how do you want me to respond? You did what you had to in the moment. And we’ll just get Veronica to properly heal it in the morning.”

“You’re strange,” Lyon got up to gather their bowls. Most likely to leave this awkward conversation. “I think you cracked your head open one too many.”

“Probably happened when I was falling for you, you know?” Laslow replied weakly, trying to throw a dazzling smile towards the already confused mage. “You’re not an easy target.”

“Perhaps it takes more than filthy words and…sultry gazes to get me in your bed, Laslow.” There it was. Lyon’s bite. He had his moments of shyness, but it seemed Laslow could always get this side of him to come out. 

“If I knew asking Camus to room with you instead would be the answer, why, i think our relationship would have been much more intimate already—“

“I can arrange for your wound to be opened now, if you’d like.”

“Ah,” Laslow stopped his teasing words. “Okay, okay. I’m kidding.”

The atmosphere lighted. Their routine of throwing half flirtations and half threats resumed. Lyon reached over Laslow to grab the bowl near his side, and Laslow couldn’t help but notice his hands. Purple with his veins clearly highlighted in black, the proof of a dark mage who’s over extended himself. 

Lyon was the one who healed him. But who’s magic was he using?


End file.
